The day arrives: America casts its ballots
On Election Day, Americans took time to vote, and to explain why this ritual means so much to them. At polling places and in luncheonettes, in the storm-battered New York metro area and a California city hobbled by foreclosure, in precincts large and small, they celebrated democracy — and the end of a long and bitter campaign.
WARREN, Mich.: Off the factory line, on the streets
At the United Auto Workers regional headquarters, hundreds of volunteers awaited pep talks and final get-out-the-vote assignments on a cold, gray Tuesday. Among them: Keely Bell and Joseph Losier, two strangers paired up for last-minute door-knocking.
For Bell, 42, this was her first up-close view of a UAW Election Day. She’d been out of work for more than two years when a rebounding Chrysler hired her to a nearby assembly plant in 2011.
Losier, who works at a different Chrysler plant in this Detroit suburb, is a fourth-generation auto-worker. Pounding the pavement for the union is his regular Election Day routine.
What they share is a conviction that the auto industry bailout President Barack Obama supported made a real difference in their lives, and a faith that personal connections — conversations during breaks on the factory floor, neighborhood canvassing, even a last word as voters arrive at their polling stations — can persuade people.
“Because of what the president did, I was able to get a job,” said Bell, a mother of two whose husband also works at Chrysler. Quoting a common election year mantra, “Vote like your life depends on it,” Bell added: “I’ve never taken that so true to heart.”
Losier, a father of four, said he, too, would be surely be unemployed today without the bailout. Now he sees the industry hiring again, and vacant homes in his neighborhood starting to fill. But the buzz of 2008 is gone.
This election, “it’s like we’re battle-hardened soldiers,” said Losier, 33. “We know what we have to do. Let’s get it done.”
With that, the pair hopped in Losier’s new Dodge Dart and joined a long line of vehicles — not an import among them — streaming out for a few final hours of work.
PATASKALA, Ohio: In battleground Ohio, relief the election is (almost) over
If there was one thing the regulars at the Nutcracker restaurant could agree upon Tuesday, it was that the presidential campaign went on for far too long.
Like voters throughout Ohio, residents of this small town east of Columbus were inundated for months with ads, campaign mail and phone calls. Just Monday, both Obama and Republican challenger Mitt Romney stumped in central Ohio for the umpteenth time.
“Overbearing,” said 77-year-old Ken Armentrout, a retired truck driver who stopped in to eat after voting for Romney on a bright, frosty day. “It was the same thing over and over.”
“Annoying,” added Jack Cruikshank, a 69-year-old retired heavy equipment operator who voted early for Romney. “They beat you over the head with it.”
Sitting between them was 61-year-old Lewie Hoskinson, a retired city worker who his friends claim is the only Obama supporter in the town of 14,000 souls. “I’m sure there are others, but I’m the only one who will admit it,” Hoskins said, to belly laughs from his buddies.
Pataskala (pronounced puh-TASK-uh-lah) and rural Licking County are so Republican that Hoskins twice had his Obama yard sign vandalized. Still, Hoskinson said he supported the president because he seemed more in touch with the working man and because he engineered the auto bailout, a big deal in a state where that industry looms large.
His friends acknowledged they weren’t exactly thrilled with Romney but said Obama hadn’t done enough to get the economy moving.
And on that subject, these Republicans and their Democratic companion could also find consensus.
In Ohio and the rest of the country, they said, this Election Day was still all about the economy.
BOCA RATON, Fla.: A century of wisdom at the polls
After 102 years on this earth, after a life as an art teacher and a store owner, after seeing war and a Depression and presidents good and bad, Selma Friedman sees no reason to muffle her opinion. What does this election mean? She’ll give you an earful.
She wants to see war ended and schools renewed, for manufacturing to return and women’s rights to improve. She worries about health care and climate change and energy and fairness, and stops for only a moment before continuing her litany.
Friedman’s first presidential vote was for Franklin Roosevelt in 1932. When she voted Tuesday at St. Andrews South, her retirement community in Boca Raton, Fla., she went with a Democrat again, marking Obama on her ballot with no hesitation.
“He couldn’t do it all in four years,” she said.
In this vital swing state, Obama’s hopes hinged on getting supporters to turn out en masse in Democrat-rich South Florida. And with a higher percentage of seniors than any other state, Florida’s 29 electoral votes depend, in part, on older voters’ approval.
Around the breakfast table at St. Andrews, Romney supporters shook their heads when they considered the past four years. Doris Jacobsen, 76, a retired secretary, couldn’t imagine why someone would give Obama their vote again.
“What has he done?” she asked with refrained outrage, a piece of bacon pinched between her fingers.
Friedman has heard those arguments, along with her neighbors’ thoughts on tax rates and foreign policy and abortion. She cannot convince them. She is a couple decades older than most here. Maybe, she thinks, it’s just youthful ignorance.
APEX, N.C.: Once laid-off, a voter says Obama deserves a chance to turn things around
A few miles outside of Raleigh, N.C., voters streamed into the Wake County Firearms Education & Training Center to cast ballots. They lined up along a hallway dominated by posters offering National Rifle Association classes and “ladies handgun leagues.” As Jerome Gantt signed in at the registration table, a target stared at him from the wall beyond.
The 34-year-old black independent voted for Republican John McCain four years ago, but not because he did not like Barack Obama.
“I honestly didn’t want a black man to be the first president coming into that bad a situation,” said Gantt, who works for a pharmaceuticals company.
Gantt is far from happy with how the last four years have turned out. He and his wife, Paquita, were laid off within months of each other. Both are now back at work, and he feels that many who remain unemployed either didn’t want to take a step down or move out of their comfort zone.
And, he added: “I don’t think four years is enough time really to turn anything around.”
Pat Crosswhite couldn’t disagree more. The 55-year-old Holly Springs woman thinks Obama, if re-elected, should be impeached over his handling of the consulate attack in Libya. “I think what he started is terrible,” said Crosswhite, who does voice-overs for television commercials. “I don’t want him to finish it.”
Four years ago, Gantt resisted the tug of “history.” This time, he favored giving Obama the chance to live up to his promises.
“I don’t feel elation,” he said. “Even if Obama wins, I won’t go out celebrating tonight and say, ‘Yes. We won.’ Because we won’t win until four years from now, when we can see what the results are of his actions.”
LITTLE FERRY, N.J.: Voting in the shadow of Sandy
The Big Dipper hangs over Liberty Street as Frank Puzzo arrives to begin his Election Day duties. Just a week ago, rescuers were piloting boats through three feet of water that coursed past Memorial School and throughout this storm-scarred town. Now, it’s 28 degrees; the first voters won’t arrive for nearly an hour.
But Puzzo — whose apartment still has no heat or hot water, whose car was claimed by storm surge — is the first to arrive to prepare and open the polls.
“This is super important for the future of the country,” says Puzzo, an accountant who has been out of work since July.
The people of Little Ferry could be pardoned if they focused purely on their beleaguered present. Some arrived shivering and clearly exhausted, their long-held certainties about shelter and safety deeply shaken. But the future matters to the people lined up at the voting machines in the hallway outside Ms. Kukula’s third-grade class.
Agim Coma, a 25-year-old construction worker, is the first voter to arrive, 13 minutes before polls open. The storm claimed his apartment and car.
It’s important because it’s our day,” he said, as Election Day in America got under way here and everywhere. “No matter what happens — hurricanes, tornados — it’s our day to vote.”